Project Freelancer: Curiosity
by heavenhathrejected
Summary: My first RVB fic in about 7 years. Wash/OC eventually. Mostly Freelancer stuff. I seem to have rewritten history a bit so slightly AU.
1. Chapter 1

_"Rho, begin archiving." My AI doesn't respond but the echo in my head tells me he's recording. I sigh quietly, where should I even begin…._

Project Freelancer Archive: Private Document: Agent New Jersey Personal Diary Entry 107

My name is… No— Not my name… My designation is Freelancer Agent New Jersey. The following is my account of my time at Project Freelancer. A lot of you may think of us as the bad guys in the war but we weren't bad. We weren't good either. All we ever did was try to end the war.

I came to be involved with Project Freelancer several years ago. I had been working as a mercenary for several years, taking work for anyone could afford me. I was approached by a fellow soldier I had known from basic training. I had known him as Private [REDACTED] but, as he put it, [REDACTED] no longer existed. His new name was York. He had a job offer for me, I had been handpicked by the director of the program.

"So, what exactly _is_ this program?" I asked him, never looking up. I was too busy making a show of cleaning my weapon to make eye contact. I had learned long ago, intimidation is key with other mercs.

"It's basically the same thing you're doing now but more organized and higher tech."

"Higher tech?" I hold up the gun I'm cleaning, a newer model of the M392, accurate farther than any gun on the market by a hundred yards. Not currently available on the market. Or anywhere else. Legally.

"Yes, higher tech. Your pea shooter came through 6 months ago. it's impressive but not as impressive as your own AI."

"AI?" Shit, I was sold already.

"Each Freelancer is being fitted with their own AI. They've all got their own personality of sorts and will be matched with whichever Freelancer agent would get along with it best. It's like internet dating but less creepy. Or more creepy. Hard to t—"

"Shut up," I interrupt him. "You said _each_ Freelancer? How? No one can get their hands on that many AI chips."

"Listen, I don't ask questions I don't want to know the answers to."

I stare at him, hard, and I know, even though I'm wearing a helmet, he can feel it. He kicks at a rock on the ground awkwardly. "We both know you've already made up your mind to come with me so why don't you stop wasting my time and let's get a move on?"

He's right, I'm going with him. I'm a sucker for any kind of artificial intelligence.

The moment I was accepted by the Direct into the program, my entire life was deleted. No records of my military service, mercenary work, or life before the war remained. I was no longer [REDACTED], I became Freelancer Agent New Jersey.

_"Rho… Pause archiving. I realize I'm doing this for the Director but all of Project Freelancer's information is classified. Won't most of this be cut out?"_

**_Some details will be redacted but all major operations have been declassified. At current archive only three data points have been flagged for classification._**

_"Our names, I'm guessing?"_

**_Yes. But I would recommend not to go into details about training techniques._**

_"Got it. Begin recording again."_

As York had promised, in our orientation we were informed that—

**_Sorry to interrupt, Agent, perhaps you should elaborate on the "we" you are referring to._**

_"You're right. I'll have to talk about him eventually."_

I joined the Project just a few weeks after another agent. Washington. We were put together for most of our training, combat and logistical. Wash was already climbing the leader board despite his late start, he's a good soldier.

For me, the most important part of the Project was my interactions with the AI. They weren't full AIs, just fragment. Which was even more interesting for me, I had never heard of so many fragments splitting from their origin. I had to know what methods they were using. The first Freelancer to be implanted with their AI fragment was Wyoming, I stuck to him like glue. [laughter] I needed to know everything. What was it like with that second voice in your head? What kind of personality did Gamma have? Could he still manage to masturbate with Gamma watching?

It's safe to say Wyoming didn't like me much but he was still willing to answer my questions. "You're young, I'm sure you always have music blasting in your helmet, right?" I nod, unsure where he's going with this. "You know when someone tries to talk to you with your music going and everything, the music, your thoughts, whoever is talking to you, it all becomes one jumbled mess. It's like that."

"How are you handling it?" I ask him.

"I found a common ground with him. Right, Gamma?"

A blue figure materializes to his right. Small, blue, he looks like an outdated computer simulated person. "That is correct, Agent Wyoming. That kind of noise is overwhelming for everyone. I am quiet when I need to be." His voice matches his outdated appearance.

"Gamma," I smile. This is my first interaction with a real AI. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I didn't realize you could project yourself to the outside world. I'd love to shake your hand but uh," I laugh.

"It is great to meet you, as well, Agent."

"Gamma, tell the nice young lady about yourself," Wyoming gestures towards me and I can feel the twinkle in my eyes.

"I'm not sure there is much to tell," he says. "I have had minimal interactions with humans since my creation."

"Anything you have to say would be more than enough, Gamma." I'm acting like a schoolgirl meeting her favorite celebrity.

"Gamma here is quite the joker." Wyoming offers.

Gamma stands up tall. "Knock, Knock."

This is officially the best moment of my life. "Who's there?" I'm pretty sure I'm going to laugh no matter how bad the punchline is.

"Boo."

Before I can respond Wyoming cuts in. "Oh for god's sake. Gamma, offline. Now." My expression must have dropped immediately because he tells me, "That's the worst joke in the history of jokes and if I hear it one more time, I'll rip the bloody chip out of my helmet myself."

"Computers don't have much of a sense of humor just yet?"

Wyoming shudders for effect. "Did you have anymore questions for me?

"Not really. I was curious about… Never mind."

"What is it?"

"I was just…. With Gamma in your head, how do you.. Y'know… 'Alone time'?" I make finger quotes around the last phrase.

He laughs uproariously. "Shall I show you?" And suddenly I understood what York had meant by not asking questions you don't want the answer to.

My interaction with Gamma had been short but I was fascinated. It would only be a few months before I would receive my AI but it was too long.

"Settle down, Jersey. There's nothing you can do to convince the Director to give you an AI sooner," Wash tried to reason with me in the locker room after combat training.

"But maybe there is. I deserve it. I'm good with computers and I—"

"There isn't." I hadn't realized York was in the room. "Wash is sixth on the board and he still has to wait. You haven't even cracked the top 25, why should you go first?"

I don't have a good answer. I don't have any answer.

"Come on, tell me. What makes you so much better?"

"York… Don't." Wash has put himself between us. "I understand what she means. She's forgotten more about AI than you or I will ever know. Wyoming's AI, Gamma, even likes talking to her. If we're experimenting to find what their capable of, Jersey should definitely be at the top of the list."

York shakes his head and walks away.

"You didn't have to do that," I mutter and I slam myself down on the bench.

"A 'thank you' would suffice." Wash reaches up to remove his helmet. I don't think I've ever seen him with out it. I can't help help myself, he's just so…. He catches me staring and I can feel myself blush. I stand up and try to step around him, he tries to move out of the way and we end up moving the same direction. We both try to switch sides in the aisle and end up blocking one another once again. Felling flustered and frustrated, I grab his arms, hold him in place and step around him. I duck out the door and walk quickly down the hallway, I need air before I do something stupid.

No, wait, shit. I retrace my steps and poke my head in the locker room door. He doesn't notice me at first because he's reaching for something in his locker, so I stand awkwardly waiting for him to stand up.

Finally, I clear my throat. He stands upright, clutching the t-shirt he must have been looking for.

"I just wanted to say thanks… For standing up for me."

He smiles and takes a few steps towards me. "I'd do anything for you." He's grinning at me and I realize he's just trying to screw with me. This realization brings me to blush again. I realize immediately that this asshole is going to change my life.

_**Agent New Jersey?**_

_"I'm fine, Rho."_

**_Perhaps that's enough for now._**

_"Yeah, we'll pick up tomorrow. End archiving."_


	2. Chapter 2

_"Rho."_

_**Yes, Agent?**_

_"I'm ready."_

**_Arching has begun._**

About a week after my disagreement with York in the locker room, we were paired up on the floor for firefight training, using immobilizing paint instead of live ammo.

York was due for surgery in three days to implant his AI and I was buzzing with excitement. "Do you know it's name?" I ask.

"Delta." He says shortly. This is our first real interaction since our argument in the locker room so I don't expect much conversation.

"What's he like?"

York looks at me like I've lost my mind. "Does it matter? In the end it's just a bunch of ones and zeroes stamped into a piece of metal and jammed into my helmet. He's however _they_ want him to be." He gestures to the viewing platform, where at least one of Freelancer's handlers would be watching us.

York grabs his handgun off the table and loads the magazine into it. I watch him carefully, trying to read his mood. Trying to determine if he's still angry about the other day or nervous for the surgery.

"Agent New Jersey, prepare for new round," F.I.L.S.S., Project Freelancer's main AI, urges me.

"Hang on, F.I.L.S.S... York, you can't think like that, once Delta is implanted, he's your partner. You have to think of him as a person or you'll never learn to work together."

"Oh, right. I forgot your a robot's biggest fan. Give me a break, Jersey."

"They aren't robots, York."

"Please, New Jersey, arm yourself." F.I.L.S.S. presses again.

I grab my pistol off the table and load the clip. York and I retreat to opposite sides of the arena and concrete pillars raise up from the ground. "Round begin," the P.A. blares.

I stand my ground and wait for any sign of York. I catch movement on my left side and duck behind a pillar. I wait for him to pass and jump back out, sweeping my left leg and catching him behind the knee. He topples to the ground and I fire two shots next to his head.

"Round 1. Point, Agent New Jersey. New round."

York shifts on the ground and I offer him my hand to help him up. "Delta probably could have helped avoid that, right?" He asks.

"Probably, but as bad as you are, there might be no helping." I hold my breath and wait for a response.

He laughs, it's a relief to have broken the silence that had grown between us.

"Prepare for new round." F.I.L.S.S. chimes.

"Belay that," a new voice comes from the P.A. The slow Southern draw tells me it's the Director. "This training session is over. Agent New York is to report for mission briefing."

York and I exchange a glance, nothing was on the docket for today, whatever is going on, it's big. York leads through the door to the observation deck. The Director turns towards him but he stops short when he sees me following in. "I believe I asked for Agent New York."

"I suppose you did, sir. But we were on the floor together and I just thought-"

"You thought wrong, 26. You are dismissed."

"Yes, sir." I back out of the room.

I head to the locker room to remove my gear, clearly I won't need it for the res of the day... 26. I'm in twenty-sixth place. I'm not good enough for what he needs.

And I never will be.

This realization sets me off and I pound my fist into the side of a row of lockers.

"Yeah, you show that locker, Jersey." It's Wash. Of course it is.

"Don't start with me." I pull my helmet off and shake my hair down.

"I'm still here, too, J." He steps around me and leans down to whisper in my ear. "I'm not good enough, either." I notice now that he's out of his armor, wearing workout sweats. He's just as stuck as I am.

I mumble a "sorry" to him as he walks through the door before sticking my head in my locker. I change into a t-shirt and shorts so I can go for a run before lights out. The long, empty hallways of the Mother Of Invention make great running paths. On the lower levels you can run laps around the entire ship without encountering another soul. My favorite hallways are the ones near the engine room. The low rumble is comforting to me.

The only bad thing about running down here is that you get lost in your thoughts. There's not a lot to look at or listen to. The only company you have is what's in your head. If you're ever looking for self actualization, that's the place to go.

Self actualization was the farthest thing from what I wanted. I knew what I was, and what I was capable of and I didn't like it.

I started to think that, if I ran fast enough, I'd have a chance of outrunning my thoughts so I tilted my head down and sped down the hallway. All this did was remind me just how fast Carolina was and that I could never live up to her.

I reached a dead end and turned the corner, still running full tilt, into a wall.

A Wash, actually.

I practically bounced off him and slammed to the floor. He stumbled back a few small steps but righted himself almost immediately.

"That was like a bug hitting a windshield." I laugh from the floor.

"Are you alright?" He lifts me to my feet.

"I think so. Pretty sure the only thing I hurt was my pride." I move to take a step and can immediately tell something's wrong, the second my weight lands on my left foot, it goes out from under me.

Wash is there before I can hit the floor. He catches me under the shoulders and lifts me upright. "Just your pride, huh?" He flashes that stupid smile of his.

It takes me a second to tear my gaze away. What is it with my brain around this guy... "Shut up and help me to my locker."

He grabs my arm and puts it over his shoulder, and his arm around my waist, allowing me to limp on my right foot. He's practically carrying my whole weight and I feel ridiculous. The last thing I need is more help.

After more than a few long, painful (in more ways than one) minutes, Wash helps me lower myself onto the bench in front of my locker. You can go now, I think to myself. Without a word, he reaches down and takes off my shoe. I ran two and a half miles, I don't want you playing with my foot right now. My foot and ankle have swollen and several dark purple bruises have started to flower.

"You're lucky," he says. "It's not broken, it's just a bad sprain."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. You'll have to stay off it for a few days but you'll be fine. Let me wrap it up."

"Wash, I'm fine. I'm gonna take a shower and limp back to bed by myself. I don't need help."

He stares at me for a few moments. "What's your real name?" The question is unexpected.

"We aren't supposed to say."

"Mine's David."

"[REDACTED] But everyone calls... Called me Cat."

"Well, Cat, with all due respect, you do need my help. Right now and out there." He gestures to the board.

"There's nothing you can do to help me... I'm hopeless. I don't even have a symbol."

"What are you talking about?"

"On the leaderboard. Carolina has her rank insignia because she's team captain. York, the infiltration specialist, has a lock. Wyoming's a sniper, he gets the crosshair. And you have a battle rifle. What's next to my name?" He glances toward the board but it only displays the top 6, I'm not there. "F.I.L.S.S., show leaderboard position 26."

Names and numbers fly by before stopping on mine. Wash studies the board for a second.

"I'm so fucking useless... they couldn't even identify one thing that I excelled at."

Wash looks at me again, his eyes boring into mine, searching for the words to make me feel better. I turn away from him so I don't have to see the look of pity he's giving me.

He puts his hands on my face and makes me look at him. "You aren't useless, Jersey. You're smart. You just have to show them. Show _him_. Just like you showed me." He pulls me closer and plants his lips on mine.

My breath catches in my throat and the shock of the whole situation causes me to take just a little too long to respond, Wash pulls himself away and stands up, looking embarrassed. He mumbles something along the lines of "goodnight" and heads for the door. The thought of him leaving me finally sets my body in motion.

"Wait." I stand up and try to move towards him. The pain in my ankle causes me to lose my footing again. He's there, again, to catch me but can't quite stop me and we both topple to the ground.

"This better not become a regular thing for us," he says, gesturing to the way I'm sitting in his lap.

"Don't leave again and it won't." I press myself against his chest and lean in to kiss him.

_After all these years, despite everything we've been though and me being a million miles from nowhere, I can still feel his lips against mine. "Rho, end archiving. I need you to help me find someone."_

**_Affirmative, Agent._**


	3. Chapter 3

**_Agent, you have an incoming message._**

_"From who?"_

**_The Director._**

_I curse under my breath and bury my face in my hands. I knew this was coming but I'd hoped it would take a little longer. "Play it."_

**A Message from the Director of Project Freelancer to Freelancer Agent New Jersey,**

**I have been informed of your recent searches through our Project's archive. Must I remind you that, while you are still under my employ, you are no longer a member of Project Freelancer, itself?**

**I appreciate the testimony you are providing in the Project's defense but not nearly enough to overlook a security breach of this severity. Cease and desist in your illegal search immediately or face termination. Or worse.**

**Perhaps, once you have completed your testimony, I will provide the information you are looking for.**

**If the Counsel's case against the Project goes the way I intend. [END]**

_The message fades from my screen and the room goes quiet again._

_"He knows as well as I do that's not going to happen." I lean back from my desk to stare at the ceiling. "What the hell could I do to get the case dropped? 'Show the humanity of the Project.' That's what he told me. There is no goddamn humanity left, that's why he needs me. Someone who was there when we were still trying to help people... We were good soldiers, Rho." I stand up to pace the floor. "We really were. Until he pitted us against each other. He turned us into monsters._

_"Telling the Counsel about what we did however many years ago isn't going to change anything!" I can feel the hysteria creeping into my voice. "They're going to find him guilty. They're going to shut down the program, what's left of it. They're going to gut everything." I sit at my desk again and try to slow my breathing._

_Rho starts humming in my head, the familiar hum of a large engine, the most comforting sound in the world to me._

_"Thank you."_

**_I don't like it when you're sad. I'll do whatever it takes, just be happy again._**

_I've never quite pinned down what Rho's attribute is, compassion or curiosity. They're one in the same, I suppose. Rho wants to understand how the world works so he can understand how to fix it. Rho and I understand each other better than even I had expected. The Director was right to grant him to me._

**_You'll never see him again._**

_It's like a stab in the heart. Rho has never said anything like this before. "What—"_

**_Not if you continue to behave like you are now. Do what the Director wants. Help him win this case. I know you don't think it's possible but if you don't try your best, you'll never know._**

_"I can't do this! You know why he's on trial, where you came from. I understand what he did but that's only because I've studied AI for so many years. To anyone else, he tortured somebody until they _broke_. More than once! I can't change the Counsel's minds on this."_

**_New Jersey, you and I have been paired together for years. You are not the type of person to give up this easily._**

_"I don't think I can do this. I don't think I want to."_

**_Yes, you do. And you will._**

_I don't respond so he says the one thing he knows will convince me._

**_You'll do it for Wash._**


	4. Chapter 4

_"Rho, a reply to the Director._

_"'I have already agreed to help you, Director. Documentation of my testimony on your behalf is on-going. Until the trial is over, I cannot guarantee the effect my testimony will have. You and I have a long, complicated history, perhaps my testimony would be more compelling if I didn't have to worry about whether or not you're going to help me. A show of good faith, perhaps?' Sign and send."_

**_That was a bold move, Jersey._**

_Yeah, it was... "I have no clue if Wash is even with the Project anymore. I need to know that he can actually help me."_

**_And if he doesn't respond?_**

_"I don't honestly expect him to, Rho. But it makes me feel better to be an asshole. Just like the good ol' days."_

_I hear a low rumble in my head and I can tell Rho is disappointed in me._

_"Don't worry about it, Rho. I know what I'm doing. I know the director. Begin archiving."_

The day before York's scheduled surgery, a new Agent arrived at the training facility.

Texas.

York, Wy, and Maine immediately jumped into the ring for a fight. In the ninth round, after getting the shit kicked out of them for 8 rounds, Maine and Wyoming switched their immobilizing paint rounds to live ammo. All weapons are supposed to be locked down so I'll leave it to your imagination where they got the ammo from.

To her credit, Texas held her own. They're lucky she didn't kill them but they wouldn't give up. York did everything he could to help Texas even if she didn't want it. Maine was down but before F.I.L.S.S. could call the round, he threw a grenade. York was the only one who was hurt. Tex sent his armor into lockdown but it wasn't enough. A piece of shrapnel went through his visor.

I don't think anyone realized before that moment that York was what held us all together. All active Freelancers crowded around the medical ward while he was in surgery. Carolina and Maine stayed the longest. Carolina had known York about as long as I had, I don't know what she'd ever do without him. She never forgave Maine and I doubt he forgave himself. York never blamed Maine, though. He was probably the only one who didn't.

Carolina refused to leave his side until the Director called her away. Priority Alpha.

"Go," York told her. "I've got 23 here to keep me company." He nods his head towards me.

Carolina tries to hide her unease, she was never one to show her emotions. "Don't let him do anything stupid," she tells me as she and Maine leave for the briefing together.

"So," York turns his attention back to me. "23. How'd that happen?"

The truth was that I'd been training for hours every night after lights out. Hand-to-hand with the holographic trainers and firefights with Wash and Maine. My scores had been going up so, even though I hadn't been in the field yet, I was rising on the Leaderboard.

I shrug. "Some body fucked up, I guess." To this day I don't know why I lied. I didn't have to and it was completely pointless.

"Whatever happened, you'll be out on missions with us in no time. Then you'll wish you were 26 again." He glances towards the door.

"Nah. I want off this ship too badly."

York begins to pick at his heart monitor. "They pushed back my AI implantation." I'm grateful he's changing the subject. "I won't get my new friend until I'm completely healed. It's a shame, I was actually looking forward to meeting the little guy. But you're probably more disappointed than I am."

York looks at the door again. "If missions are so bad, why do you look like you're going to run for the briefing room?"

He smiles at me and I can't help but roll my eyes. This was the kind of stupid Carolina had been talking about. "Are you good?"

"I'm perfect, get me out of here."

It takes a while but York and I hatch a plan to get him out.

After the medic's next round, I remove the heart monitor from his finger and quickly replace it. The alarm goes off and the nurse rushes back in. "Sorry about that, I was trying to roll over and it slipped off." York shrugs innocently.

The medic checks to make sure the equipment st okay and leaves again. I remove York's heart monitor and quickly place it on my hand. We hear the medic's footsteps coming nearer again and York quickly yells "Shit! I did it again. My bad. We're all good."

"Go the fuck to sleep." The medic grunts before retreating once again.

"His bedside manner could use some work," York says as he gets to his feet and pads to the door. "Coast's clear," is all he says before disappearing down the corridor.

I adjust myself on York's hospital bed and lay back. I'm sure they'll kick me out on the next round but I may was well get comfortable until then.

Amazingly, none of the medics never come to check on me- York- I'm left alone until the team returns. Looking back maybe somebody wanted it that way so he was in the clear for the mission.

It's the better part of a day before they get back. York bolts through the door, panting. Something bad has happened.

"Who?" My throat is tight.

"Maine." He shakes his head desperately. "It's bad."

It was bad.

Maine had taken several shots to the throat and our medical team wasn't sure if he'd survive. We all crowded in the observation room despite regulations against it. If Maine died, this would be our first fatality. If he could die, any of us could die. And that wasn't something any of us wanted to face. After a while, it became clear that Maine's surgery was going to last a while so we decided to take turns watching over him, I volunteered for first watch. We hadn't really talked much but he had been my partner for many of my training sessions. It was hard to see him like this.

About an hour after the others left, the Director arrived to check on Maine's status. I prepare to be berated for trespassing into the observation room.

"Things are looking grim," He says to no one in particular.

"He's tough. He can make it." I don't know if I'm trying to convince him or myself.

The Director places a hand on my shoulder. "He's getting the finest medical treatment available, New Jersey, I can assure you of that."

I look up at him and, for the first time, he's looking at me with a look of something other than contempt. I don't know if it's sympathy or pity but I'm grateful for it.

The director's communicator chirps and he excuses himself from the room.

I turn my attention back to the doctors in the room below me. There's almost nothing left of Maine's throat, he'll be lucky if he can breathe on his own when he recovers. That kind of pain is impossible to imagine. Maine is the strongest person in the program but this could ruin anyone, even him...

I lose myself in my thoughts for a while until there's a knock at the door behind me, Wyoming.

"How is he?" I always liked hearing Wyoming talk, his accent always reminded me of actors in old movies.

"Stable. They brought in a blood transfusion about an hour ago. It's helped to stabilize his blood pressure but he's still bleeding."

Wyoming nods and sighs back into a seat. "I'll take over now."

I look at the clock, it's been almost two hours since the Director left, and I count back to when the accident occurred. "It's been 8 hours, Wy... I don't think he's going to make it."

"He'd be better off if he didn't." Wyoming never looks away from where Maine lies on the operating table. He's not saying it to be mean, he's saying it because it's true. I had thought the same thing before he'd walked in. Maine will never be the same when he wakes up... If he wakes up. He'll never be whole again.

"Yeah... Probably." I make my way towards the door but before I can leave a blue light flickers in my peripheral vision.

"Maine will survive, Agent. You only have to hope."

"Yeah, Gamma. I'll do that."

I head down the hallway towards my bunk but I don't want to sleep. I can't be alone with my thoughts either. I wander down the corridors aimlessly, trying to shake the image of Maine's lifeless body from my head.

After a few minutes of this my stomach starts to rumble and I'm suddenly aware that I'm starving, I can't even recall when I last ate. I make my way for the mess hall but it seems I wasn't the only one with that idea. North and South sit next to each other on one side of the table, with Wash a little ways down from them, and York sits next to Carolina on the other side. Wash begins to stand up but I shoot him a look to tell him not to. I want food, not to talk.

The mess hall food was never particularly appealing but that night it was even worse. I settled for a bowl of what I'm told is fruit salad and sat myself next to Wash, trying to bring myself to eat.

It's quiet and everyone is looking at me. I can't bring myself to lift my gaze to them.

"He's going to be fine." Is all I can bring myself to say. I eat a few bites of the fruit salad before turning my back on it completely. "I'm going to check on Wyoming," I say, raising from my seat. "See if he needs anything."

"I'll come with you," Wash is out of his seat and at the door before I have a chance to say no.

He's quiet while we're in the hallway, not sure what to say. But he doesn't need to say anything, I stop in the hallway and pull him to kiss him. He's startled but leans in to the kiss. We both want the same thing, to stop thinking, stop hurting.

Slowly, seemingly against his own wishes, he breaks away from the kiss. "In there. So the others don't see."

I look to where he's indicating, there's a storage closet behind us. This is stupid, I know it's stupid but I push him into the closet anyway. We're near the training floor and the closet is filled with pugil sticks and paint rounds. There isn't much room, Wash and I fumble to find what we want. I lock my lips with his as Washington lifts the thin material of my t-shirt and caresses my skin before removing my shirt entirely. Each touch sends shiver through my body, it's embarrassing how pleased I am with myself at this moment, I'm not his kind of person, it's strange, taboo, exciting.

Wash is still in his armor's bodysuit, never having bothered to remove it after he had returned from the mission. He pulls away from the kiss to remove the suit. He gets tangled in the suit and gives up at some point after getting it to his waist. I can't help but laugh at him as he grabs my face to kiss me again and I can feel him shake with laughter too.

He pulls away and half whispers, half growls "What the hell are you doing to me?" At least my brain isn't the only one to malfunction.

His lips are against mine again and his hands grab at my body. I can feel his heat against me and we both know where this is heading I unbutton and step out of my jeans and he lifts me into his arms and leans me back on a box.

Wash leans his forehead against mine and asks "Are you sure?"

Am I sure I want to have sloppy, tiny closet sex? "Yes," is all I manage to pant back.

His hands trail down my thighs and spread my legs. He steps closer again and presses his hips against mine as he enters me. After that, it's a blur of skin and sweat and ecstasy. For those few minutes, hidden away in a storage room, everything is okay again.

Until the call comes in. Maine's heart has stopped beating.

I dressed quickly and ran for the medical wing, not caring how obvious I looked. Everyone had gathered in the observation room again with the addition of the Director. He looked down cold and calculating, as the doctors attempt to revive Maine.

"What happened?" I don't know who asked the question, all I could focus on was the Director's face.

"They were bringing him out from the anesthesia and he went into cardiac arrest and his heart just... stopped."

The Director looks absolutely furious now. "Activate Sigma."

Sigma?

One doctor in the room takes Maine's helmet from a table a places it over his head. There's a long moment of fear and confusion before the heart monitor begins to beep again and Maine begins to stir.

The Director turns to face Carolina, "Agent, your sacrifice has just saved your partner's life."

His words finally bring me to stir. "What is Sigma?"

The Director doesn't answer so Carolina does. "Sigma was going to be my AI but the Director suggested to giving him to Maine. Sigma is controlling Maine's life support."

An AI as a lifesaving tool was something I had never considered.

In the operating room below us, Maine was attempting to sit up but was restrained by the doctors. He raised his hands to his head and let out an almost imperceptibly quiet scream- No, not a scream. A growl. He was in pain but he was alive.

_**Jersey, I'm sorry to interrupt but you have a new message from the Director.**_

_Well, shit. "Play it."_

**A show of good faith.**

_"Is... Is that it?"_

**_No, there are several files included._**

_"What kind of files?"_

**_They would appear to be the personal journal entries of Agent Washington._**


End file.
